What am I talking about!?

For Halloween, I started to make this ghostie garland and everything was fine until I started to get tired of cuting and pasting. I took my pens and starting to draw celebrities on those cute ghosties. There is three categories :

So picture a shy little boy hiding behind his guitar and singing his songs like Daniel Johnston would do if he had Demis Roussos’ voice in Blade Runner’s soundtrack (yes, I had to specify) . Then, add a bunch of guys around that frame the songs with bass, keyboard, amazing drums, and weird sounds. The little boy doesn’t seem to see them and yet, they tell the same story only from a different points of view.

That’s exactly what I saw the first time I heard Thomas Howard Memorial, saturday night, and it was like entering a movie during a crucial scene when music goes on for us, spectators, but the character is still riding his horse in the middle of a silent plain. And even after this first song, when the voice turned lower, still lasted the picture of a lost kid with his lyrics ring binder, carried by three shadow knights as Clint Eastwood was carried by Ennio Morricone in A Fistful of dollars.

One thing that marked my life is the ancient gypsy’s law. Mostly when I got an existential problem, I can relate to it. Those days, I was, for some reasons, thinking about the victim status and the scale of the attacker’s responsibilities in what happens next, and it made me think of the block’s law.

It’s about the fact that when someone hurts or insults someone else, the attacker has to redeem himself by throwing a knife to the victim or the victim’s hand, and not touching him but the plank behind. This law may seem unfair at the first glance but only because it’s the result of an unfair situation. Because when you mess with a person, you have to remember that things may go wrong and that if it does, it’s your fault.

Most of the time, in the law of the jungle conjuncture, we focus our attention on the only one that did nothing instead of the one that broke boundaries. We make him responsible because he could have known, blame him because he is not strong enough to move on, bring him to the shrink in order of « fixing him » when he just normally reacts to an outstanding situation..

But the thing is that, when the victim learns how to « live with » (when the goal should be to live without), he erases the consequences. None for the attacker, none for the victim. So was the outstanding situation such a big deal?

The lack of consequences turns the unacceptable into something common.

Prejudice leads to consequences for the victim AND for the attacker. And which are those consequences on the attacker?

By spoiling it, he gets responsible for his victim’s life even if none of them want to. That’s why the one that fucked up has to throw the knife and not the opposite. Because it’s not a question of revenge. By throwing this knife, he can not enjoy or ignore his victim’s fall. He has to face it, feel it, and deal with the fact that he granted too much power to himself and should be ashame of it. He gets the fact that it is possible to go too far and that not everything can get fixed. That’s why we take care of each others. By having a chance to kill his victim, he understands the extent of what he did.

Only, as this law isn’t gadjo’s one, the attacker can choice if he takes this responsibility.

Back in the time, when I was around 12/13 years old, I was still going to high school, still thinking that I could stand teachers’ superiority complex and student’s gossips. This age is to me a crucial turn because that was just before I started ditching school for going to the skate park near the river port, spending nights wandering the streets or crashing at punk clubs, waking up at stranger’s, and going on crazy adventures with my first boyfriend.

I tried to remember who was my heroines back then. At first I could only think of my huge admiration for David Cooper that was probably the most important thing to me (psychiatry and anti psychiatry was my bedside book), and then, slowly, some TV characters and r’n’b divas started to pop up.

Destiny’s Child : When I was a kid, I wanted to be a spice girl. Being in a band with other girls, wearing giant shoes, having fun, living in a trunk, and being a part of the girl power. The Destiny’s child are the level two. I wanted to be in a band with other girls, being sexy and confident, and turning my words into impressive vocals. Independant women was my anthem, and The Writing’s on the wall was my most precious possession.

Aaliyah : I remember myself singing I refuse in broken English, bringing my precious CD everywhere with me, and hanging on my bedroom’s wall a printed poster of her that I gained into an r’n’b fanzine. Kurt Cobain died when I was six years old and I was too young to give a damn, and now, even if I prefer Nirvana’s songs than Aaliyah’s, I can say that her death was THE tragic moment in music of my life. Parents remember what they were doing when Kennedy get killed, I remember what I was doing when Aaliyah died.

Lane Kim : I never really could stand Rory Gilmore. She was too perfect and haughty, and even if I was the same kind of a book person, I was feeling closer to her sidekick. I grew up with a broke mom that always taught me that everything was too expensive for us, and since her words were like The Bible to me, I thought that a CD would cost me something like a hundred bucks. With Lane Kim, I started to understand that I could buy second hand records and stop being a radio slave. Her musical culture/obsession inspired me a lot and got me into a frenetic research by diging into the History of rock’n’roll that still lasts. Also, I just could admire the fact that she knew exactly who she was, what she wanted, and gave it a chance despite her hilarious family and religion issues.

Ling Woo : Ally Mc Beal was my favorite TV show at this time and I loved all the characters (maybe except Billy despite those very cool 40s vibes in the outfit) but Ling was my favorite. I guess that at first, it was because she was Asian and I was desperatly looking for some Asian models that I couldn’t have at home, but then her agressive attitude, her solitude, her funny sex statements, her loyalty to Nelle Porter, her smartness, and her social clumsiness got me. I also was captivated by her independance and her multitasking power. I can’t remember how many firms she runed but it was impressive and always unexpected. My best Ling memory was when I saw her hiding to cry when the leucemian boy died. I was the kind that show their feelings, and this reserve sounded so beautiful to me. Also, I was a bit jealous of her ability to hate people.

Max Guevara : Why does Jessica Alba keep ruining my memories? How is it possible that the strong, funny, intelligent, strangely beautiful, superhero Dark Angel turned into a romantic comedies supply? She was the perfect woman and I was longing to be like her. I even tried to curl my hair which was stupid since what I admired was her strength, her sense of justice and loyalty, her decency, her friendship with Original Cindy! Max Guevara was also mysterious. She had to deal with a terrible secret and lived two parallel lifes… Even three, and she needed night face to face with herself to put words on her feelings. The post-apocalytical world she was gliding in was some kind of dreamy to me ; Less properties, less organisation, more sense of improvisation, which was probably reflecting the Max’s animal side. But probably what I liked most about her was that she was this type of person that can adapt to the worst but never gets used to it.

Mai Hem : After her first appearance in Heartbreak High framed by a couple of cops because of a scandal in an art gallery, it was so obvious that I would love her! She was an artist, a badass, and she always took stands for what seemed fair to her. I remember for example this episode when everybody thought she was lesbian and instead of spoiling energy refuting, she just pointed out the fact that it shouldn’t be such a big deal. She was also a little twisted and never had any interesting love story line, but she had a voice and that was what mattered.

I was really hooked to my time and embrassed the pop culture which I could never be able to do again since then.

The stupid thing is that I am so conditioned by my love for Asian hair that I automatically bought some extra black henna which doesn’t fit the idea at all, but the good thing is that I came up with a new battle. Rainbow, or pastels?

I’ll never give up on Sasa Pivovarova, but now, it’s time for punk inspirations. Something more familiar that looks like the friends you grew up with (and by « you », I mean « me »). The beauty and the beast at the same time.